I fell asleep for over an hour on our living room sofa this afternoon, which is miraculous, because, barring the INFLUENZA and THE BLACK DEATH, I never nap during the day.
Oh, I COULD nap; I just choose not to. It’s because my Type A, hyperactive, Energizer Bunny personality always wants to GET THINGS ACCOMPLISHED! And CLEAN OUT A DRAWER OR A CLOSET OR SOMETHING! And napping always tends to interfere with those endeavors.
And do I actually clean drawers and closets at my house?
No, I don’t. But I want to remain awake at all times, just in case I become overwhelmed with the urge TO CLEAN THEM.
But not today. The busyness of the weekend caught up to me. I sat down on the sofa this afternoon with my book, so that I could be the prison warden to the boy, who had HIS book. The boy, you see, must read for 140 minutes every week as homework. A failure to do so means that he misses his afternoon recess on Fridays, and the boy makes it a point to DO ALL THINGS NECESSARY IN ORDER TO ATTEND EVERY RECESS. Period. The boy and the recesses are TIGHT.
You might even say that recess is his favorite class at school.
And reading, most definitely, is NOT. The boy is a fantastic reader. He reads as well as any sober college student does. But the boy LOATHES, HATES and DESPISES reading, and so one of my hardships here on earth is fighting him, week in and week out, to accomplish 140 logged minutes. Whereas his friends all read 300 MINUTES! And 550 MINUTES! And I was so involved in my book, I read all weekend and logged 890 MINUTES this week!, the boy reads…
…140 minutes. Every week. Except for the week earlier this fall, when I miscalculated my mental tallies, and he ended up with 150 minutes on his reading log.
It was a record for us that broke the boy’s heart, because he had WASTED ten additional minutes of his week that could have been spent building a fort in the backyard with the cute neighbor boy.
So this afternoon, I sat down with my taser in the living room, and I was determined to use it on the boy, if he didn’t knock out a big chunk of those 140 minutes today.
And then, in the middle of a sentence that I was reading out of my own book, I simply leaned over and fell asleep.
When I woke up, it was more than an hour later, and the boy assured me that yes! And indeed! He had read the entire hour, and isn’t that cool that he already has 60 minutes to write down on his reading log, and it isn’t even Wednesday night yet?!
After my nap, my hair was sticking up on one side of my head. My hair was matted on the other side of my head. Mascara was smeared beneath one eyeball. And… I had a genuine headache. I was a vision to behold! Don’t fault me if this post goes sideways into a dark place; I’m not sure that I have all of my faculties about me tonight while I’m typing.
Which is different than other nights… how?
I’ll have to highlight the other big events in our weekend later this week, because my attention span is about as long as a peanut tonight, and I’ve already spent TOO MUCH TIME resizing pictures so that you can see more than just one eyeball that is exactly the same size as your computer monitor. My camera! It tends to take THE LARGE KIND of snapshots.
…today is Cousin L’s 9th birthday, which means that she made her debut into the world nine years ago, after keeping me up ALL NIGHT! EVERY SINGLE MINUTE OF THAT NIGHT! in the waiting room. I slept sideways in a chair and kinked up every single muscle I owned.
But there, around 9:00 in the morning, was BABY Cousin L! And she was cute! And she wailed loudly! And we all fell in love with her.
And then some of your guests hog your baby sister, Little H, because Little H is darling and totally huggable.
And then there are other party guests who completely block the staircase when your mama yells out, “Pizza! Come get the pizza, and then we’ll open presents!” Sister’s Husband’s cousin, who is the cutest high school senior we know, wouldn’t let the children down the stairs.
The saddest part of this picture is that Sister’s Husband’s cousin is wearing a Colorado State T-shirt. (I just threw up a little bit in my mouth.) Thankfully, we really LIKE this boy, or I would have asked him to change his shirt — SWEET MERCY! BUT PUT ON SOMETHING DIFFERENT AND NON-GREEN, PLEASE!, because MY beloved College Town and CSU have never seen eye to eye. Plus, we beat them in football all the time.
(And bonus points if you whispered that into the neck of your T-shirt like Brick does from the sit-com The Middle.)
(Double bonus points if you think The Middle is laugh-out-loud funny. We certainly do. I think it’s because Hubs and I ARE the Heck family.)
Eventually, Cousin K managed to hop over Scott and his (Gag!!) Colorado State T-shirt, while Scott was distracted trapping Cousin L. Trapping two kids at once requires EXTREME ATTENTION TO DETAIL. When you’re totally focused on Gretal, Hansel will notice your distraction, see an opportunity, and hop on off to freedom, leaving a trail of breadcrumbs behind him, in case Gretal ever manages to get loose.
For the record, Cousin K spells freedom C-H-E-E-S-E-P-I-Z-Z-A.
When everyone had pizza sauce spread from one ear to the other (And we did ask the teenagers to PLEASE! GRAB A NAPKIN AND WIPE THE SAUCE OFF Y’ALL’S FACES!), it was time to sing a rousing rendition of “Happy Birthday to You,” and add some colorful phrases like, “You look like a hound dog, and you smell like one, too!”
And then the kids asked the grownups to “Please sing nicely!” Thank you very much.
Because our family really enjoys a good birthday celebration, Sister gave the kids their own candles for their own hunks of chocolate cake. They lit them, and then they ALL sang “Happy Birthday” to THEMSELVES.
They did this more than once.
And even more than twice.
Until someone said, “Eat the cake already! The wax is dripping on your frosting and you’re about to light your dadgum hair on fire!”
…it was time for presents!
The boy whispered to me, “I don’t know why girls like to get little dolls and Barbies for their birthdays. Those are the most boring toys in this entire world! Why doesn’t L want some good Legos?”
I love my boy.
I think Sister’s Husband would have been a lot more excited if a box of Legos had been unwrapped.
Happy birthday, Cousin L! We can’t believe you’re NINE STINKING YEARS OLD ALREADY! No matter. We still love ya!